


The Midwife and The Mortician

by Lestradesexwife



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fake Character Death, Pregnancy, Reichenbach Falls, Unplanned Pregnancy, bamf!Molly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper counts, she has always counted and Sherlock always trusted her. But he leaves her behind as well. <br/>She does what she thinks is best, even if it means leaving behind almost everything she knows.</p><p>(Also apparently I have created my own personal ship.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before The Fall.

**Author's Note:**

> There are currently eight completed chapters in this work. I will endeavor to post one per day until I am caught up. At which point I cannot predict the posting schedule.

"It will still be dangerous." She said as she finished drawing the pint of blood. She pressed a small cotton ball into the crook of Sherlock's elbow. "Put pressure here."

"Not as dangerous as not being prepared, and if I can convince him that I will join him we won't need any of this." He waved his hand at the bag of blood and at the preparations the homeless network were making out in London. He did not say that he was not sure that Jim would go along with Sherlock's plan. Doubt wasn't something that Sherlock generally experienced, the blood draw was necessary for Sherlock's fail safe plan. If Jim refused the truce that Sherlock intended to offer he had to be prepared to 'burn'. 

Sherlock had been sitting with his feet up on the counter in the lab while Molly had drawn the pint. She was a little worried that he would pass out, he hadn't eaten anything all day. "I'll get you some tea? You will need some sugar. This can't be good for you." Holding up the bag. She turned to go and get him a tea from the machine down the hall. 

"Molly" He said as he reached out and laid his hand on her wrist. "Molly, I'm sorry... for how I treated you before. I was cruel and..."

"Sherlock, don't. You are going to be fine. I don't need any death bed apologies. You are going to be fine and go back to your old self." Her shoulders slumped as she spoke. Since Sherlock had explained his plan she had been repeating "It will work, he will be fine." like a mantra, constantly in her head. Her heart almost believed it, but if he cracked now she would fall to pieces. 

His fingers tightened on her wrist and he pulled her back around to face him. "No... I will be fine, I'm fine now. I'm not..." His free hand moved up to lift her chin. "I meant it when I said you have always mattered. You are the only one that I know will be safe and it is terrible. You have always counted, but I never showed you how much... I am sorry Molly Hooper." His feet dropped to the floor and he rose, pulling her close.

She looked up at him, pulling back slightly. "Please, don't... don't do this." His hand dropped from where it had been cradling her chin. "I couldn't stand your pity." She pulled back further.

Because she was she was still looking into his eyes she saw the tiny little crack in his facade. Which she knew was his equivalent of a sob. "No I'm sorry, tell me what you need?"

"You... Molly Hooper, I need you." as he lent down and pressed a soft, but not chaste kiss to her lips.


	2. Coffee?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock, angst-y love scene.

She gasped as the tip of his tongue touched her lip. The contact sent a jolt through her, suppressing the tiny part of her brain that was telling her this was a bad idea. Despite everything she had said about him being fine, there was a feeling of finality about what was happening. Even if their plans were completely successful there would never be another chance like this for them. Not to mention that she didn’t have condoms, and she was pretty sure he didn’t either. _But_ she had just done his blood work a week ago (as a favour for John, he worried after a case that involved Sherlock taking quite a beating at the hands of some gangsters, and Sherlock had given in. He always gave in to John eventually) and she knew that he was clean. _Not good enough_ that small part of her brain whispered. _Shut up_ she thought as she stretched up to return the kiss.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close and up onto her tiptoes as they kissed. And of course it was awkward, bumping of noses and the slight knocking of teeth. It was also electric, and they melted into each other, his spine curving down as hers arched up. She'd wanted just this for so long, to be inside the circumference of his arms. Molly had almost given up on being inside his heart or his mind. The noise in the back of her throat could be easily mistaken for pleasure, she wanted it to be pleasure alone but she was overwhelmed with something that felt like anger, that he should have waited until today for this. When it would be an ending, rather than a beginning. She pulled herself closer to Sherlock, stretching up until she was almost floating in his arms. If this was to be all of it she would leave herself no room for regrets. He would be fine, but she would not see him again (not soon at least), he would have to go as soon as it was over. She'd suggested her apartment, because it was the last place anyone would look for him. He'd turned her down, saying that if Jim did look there he could not risk her safety. 

Molly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push all the thoughts from her mind and focus on this. Sherlock’s glorious bespoke tailoring left very little to the imagination, even through the layers of jumper and blouse that she was wearing. She could feel his heart pounding, felt as though she could hear it in the silence of the lab. After some time Molly broke away from the kiss, “Office.” she said. Becoming aware that her hands were buried in Sherlock’s hair. She released his hair and rocked back onto the balls of her feet, her calf muscles reminding her that it had been some time since she had held herself en pointe for any length of time. "Come on."

His eyes were closed, and he cleared his throat and loosened his grip on her waist. She took his hands and led him into the office, which had the benefit of a door that locked. Turning back to him after locking the door she paused for a moment, stuck in place for an instant by the force of _want_ that came from Sherlock. Molly closed the distance between them again reaching out to run her hands over his arms, leaning in to kiss him gently before she began to open the buttons of his shirt. He pulled back from her slightly, his hands tentatively hovering over her shoulders. “Molly, I don’t have any…”

“I know, it’s fine.” Somehow it was comforting that he hadn’t prepared for this, it meant that it wasn’t a manipulation. _Unless it is a triple bluff_ the horrible part of her mind whispered. She stomped down hard on that paranoia and finished unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it loose from his waistband and opening it to reveal his skin. She kissed his Adam's apple and wrapped her arms around him inside his shirt. “It’s fine.”

He sighed an “Oh.” as her fingers traced across the skin of his chest and pulled her close. Molly tried to stop herself from wondering how many other people had been able to touch Sherlock this way. She could ask him, she felt that he would not keep it from her, either way, not now. His fingers cupped her chin, tilting her head back until their eyes met. "Don't, I'm not... Because of that." His free hand waved to indicate London, Jim, and the homeless network. "It is you, Molly Hooper. Now. Here." The kiss was slower this time, drawn out. They had become aware that this was ending, that it would **have** to end soon but they were trying to keep it. Holding onto each second. 

There was fumbling with clothing, Molly digging her fingers into Sherlock's waistband, fumbling with the damn invisible button on the inside. Sherlock seemed truly, sweetly confounded by the catches on her bra and he eventually gave up, growling as she reached behind herself and deftly unhooked the tiny clasps. He ran his fingers down her sides, making her shiver and lean towards him and kiss whatever skin she could reach. He opened the fly on her trousers and slid his hands down her back shucking her layers of clothing in one movement before lifting her onto the edge of the desk. 

It was slow and smooth, the moment of contact locked eyes and shared breath. The rest was slow, light kisses and soft moans. Molly untangled her legs from her trousers and wrapped them around Sherlock’s waist, pulling him tight and holding him close. They rocked smoothly against each other, both trying to close any microscopic distances between them. Her head fell back as her orgasm rolled through her, warm and sweet and slow. She felt him follow her over, as he dropped a kiss into the curve of her neck. After an extended moment she dropped her head to his shoulder. 

He sighed and whispered against the skin of her neck “I don’t want to go.”

She pulled back and took his face in her hands. “I know, it will be fine.” She kissed his forehead, then gently pressed her lips to his. 

They pulled apart, a sadness descending over both of them. Whatever happened next they would not see each other again for some time, at least not like this. They straightened their clothes. Molly ran her hands through his hair, straightening the muss she had made. She smiled her bravest smile at him.

“Stay here, I’ll get you some crisps and a coffee.”


	3. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains potential spoilers. If you haven't seen the second series finale go do that before you read this. Also it contains mentions of suicide, and death. So don't read it if you are sensitive to that sort of thing. 
> 
> Mostly sort of just my head canon for the roof.

Sherlock was hyperventilating, preparing for having to hold his breath. He flipped through his phone until he found the draft to Molly that read “I’m sorry, bring the body bag.” he hit send on the message. He found that he was actually sorry, Molly did count and she had felt something for Jim from IT. This part would be hardest on her, even if she had said she no longer felt an emotional attachment to the man. Seeing his brains and blood on the roof of St. Bart’s would be traumatic for her.

She arrived on the roof moments later, she had been waiting two floors down in a room across from the stairwell. Behind her came Desmond, one of Sherlock’s most trusted members of the homeless network. Desmond had also been chosen for this part as he was part of an underground boxing ring, he would be able to offer some protection to Molly should she be intercepted before she could return to the morgue, but he was also possessed of the upper body strength necessary to carry Jim down to the elevator. Molly had arranged a gurney, and although it wasn’t typical for her to move a body through the hospital they were sure they could accomplish it quickly enough. Especially with the distraction Sherlock would have to provide. 

His heart hammered and he swallowed several times, trying to push aside his nausea. He looked up and met Molly’s eyes, “Molly… I thought he would…” Sherlock had hoped that Jim would call off the assassins when Sherlock had given himself over, he was sure that his bargain would be accepted. Jim was bored, but together they should have been unstoppable. 

Molly swallowed and looked down at Jim. “No. It isn’t your fault. He was insane.” She unfolded the body bag and spread it out next to Jim’s body. Sherlock carefully took the gun out of Jim’s hand, John had taught him how to eject a clip and put the safety back on. He checked that there were still bullets in the gun and put the clip back in, handing the gun off to Desmond. “Toss it in the Thames when you are done, it is very important that this weapon not appear on the black market.” Desmond nodded curtly and tucked the gun into the waistband of his trousers, pulling his shirt out to cover it. 

Molly handed some latex gloves to Desmond and he put them on, moving to stand near Jim’s shoulders. Sherlock bent near his ankles and together they lifted him into the bag. Sherlock had a brief pang of paranoia as he felt the trace of warmth in Jim’s body, but then his head lolled back and Sherlock had to struggle not to vomit. There was no way to fake the gaping exit wound. He was lucky that he was already breathing deeply through his mouth and he closed his eyes and turned his head away to regain his composure. 

Molly folded Jim’s arms into the bag and did up the zipper. Sherlock felt better now that the body was out of sight. “There is too much blood, what if someone comes up here after?” he said. 

Molly gave him a look, surprised at his lack of forethought. Desmond smirked and went back to the door, returning several seconds later with a large bucket of water. He carefully poured it over the blood and bits angling it towards the drain spout in the roof. By the time it reached the ground it would be diluted enough that anyone other than Sherlock would not notice it. The clean up wouldn’t hold up if someone thought to do a decent search of the roof, but he was counting on his suicide not raising any red flags. Jim had done his job too well, no one would be looking for him and everyone would believe that Sherlock was a fraud.

Hot and sudden anger coursed through him, this wasn’t where he wanted to be. He wanted to be heading back to Baker Street, to John and Mrs. Hudson forcing him to eat. That thought poured icy water down his spine. He had to protect them. “Everything is prepared below?” he asked Molly.

“Yes, but are you sure?” Molly looked worried, she’d been avoiding the edges of the building. 

“He said he would kill them Molly, nothing has changed because he is dead.” Sherlock turned to the edge of the building nearest the street. “John, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade will die unless I stop…” He turned back to Molly. “I’m sorry.” He meant he was sorry that she wasn’t on the list, as twisted as that was.

“It’s alright. It’s fine.” She looked away from him, twisting her fingers together. “We should go.”

Sherlock said nothing, but Desmond bent down and hefted the body bag over his shoulder into a fire-man carry. Molly picked up the bucket and followed him to the door, holding it open for him to go first. “I… it will be alright.” she said. 

Sherlock watched the door swing closed and turned back to the edge, he took a step before the morning light caught on something shiny on the roof. He stooped to pick up the shell casing, rolling it between his fingers before slipping it into his pocket and removing his phone. He carefully deleted everything except the encrypted message that he had recorded earlier for John. He knew none of the idiots at the Yard would be able to crack it, it was based off a secret language John had taught him (that John had used to keep secrets from Harry in his youth with some of his own improvements) and he hoped that the phone would find its way to John.

He stepped onto the ledge of the building and dialed John’s number.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly takes a test, and re-arranges her life around the results.

Molly wasn’t barricaded in the lavatory. She just happened to to have chosen a loo that no one was likely to want to use for the next fifteen minutes and locked the door. And it wasn’t really misappropriation, sterile sample cups and test strips weren’t exactly thin on the ground at Bart’s.

She had however made a mistake, fifteen minutes was a long time to wait when you have nothing else to do but worry. She had started off simply staring at the strip, but it had refused to bend to her will. Now she was pacing in the confines of the room, shifting her gaze between her watch and the sample strip on the counter. Afraid to miss the change she was sure was coming. 

It had been two weeks since Sherlock’s suicide, and what had happened before he had jumped. Afterwards he had left, without so much as a word. She understood that, there wasn't anything to say, and he didn't go in for sentiment. But locked in the bathroom, waiting she felt very alone. Molly smirked at herself, "And what do you think he would do if he was here now?" Her mind conjured up his image in the corner of the loo. He probably wouldn't need the test, he would be able to tell by what she had for breakfast, or the way she had put her hair up this morning. But he would fixate on the test strip, waiting intensely as he did for every test result. She wasn’t late yet, but she had also never felt this way before. It wasn’t anything she could pinpoint, she wasn’t nauseous, but she also wasn’t having her usual symptoms of her period. She checked her watch and turned back to the counter. She watched, fascinated, as the strip changed colour. Molly looked up at her reflection “Well, that is that Molly Hooper. You will be fine.”

She emptied the sample cup and sealed the strip in the jar, she put it in the pocket of her lab coat. She was going to bin it outside the Midwifery school, no one would notice an extra test strip there, but in the morgue it would raise questions if anyone noticed it. She flushed the loo and washed her hands, straightening her lab coat in the mirror. “You are fine, you will be fine.”

She left the lavatory, she’d chosen one that was at the opposite end of the hospital from the morgue. She wandered the halls until she entered the Midwifery school, this was definitely not her area. The light here was of a different quality, and the tone of conversation. She ducked her head slightly as she binned the sample cup, and tried not to speed her steps up as she maneuvered through a gaggle of chatting midwives. 

Molly breathed a sigh of relief as she entered an empty elevator, and she lent back against the wall as the doors closed and she descended to her office and laboratory. The change in atmosphere when the elevator door opened was obvious, this floor was quiet and subdued. Especially since Sherlock had stopped blowing things up in her lab. There were other labs and offices on this floor, but no patients. Molly went through to her office. Closing her door and turning to look at her desk, she sighed at the memory, which had until today started to feel like it had happened to someone else.

She sat at the desk and pulled out some paperwork. She had several options available to her, stay on at Bart’s and be pregnant, go on maternity leave and come back after her fifty two weeks. Before Sherlock had left he had warned her that Jim’s people might still be watching. Would suddenly being pregnant raise their suspicions? Would they even still be paying attention by the time she started to show? That thought did make her nauseous. So staying on at Bart’s and not being pregnant then, her heart kicked slightly at that thought. No this wasn’t the plan that she had for her life, but this was Sherlock’s child. If she’d gotten pregnant while she was with Jim… well that didn’t bear thinking about really, but that would have been a different decision. Sherlock might never come back, but this was right.

Which meant two options for leaving Bart’s, either she go on sabbatical or she resign. Sabbatical had the benefit of being temporary, she could always choose to come back if it seemed no one was taking notice of her. She was probably due for one anyway, so no one would think anything of it. Resigning was overly dramatic and might actually call attention to her, since they would want to know why she was leaving. 

She had plenty of time to prepare, so she would be careful. 

Two months later, she had her replacement for her sabbatical. He was competent, she was sure he would be able to handle her classes, and he had his own research projects to pursue. She had also found a lovely little flat in Brighton via an estate agent. The story that she had been telling was that she had family in Brighton-Hove and she was going to be doing some research and writing, in the relative quiet. 

She gathered up her papers and looked around the office one last time. There hadn’t been much in the way of personal effects in here anyway, but it still felt like saying goodbye to something important. All the things from her London flat had already been sent down with the movers, she was taking the train this afternoon. The toughest part was parting with Toby, Meena was going to watch him for the duration, since the new flat didn’t allow pets.

There was another Midwifery school in Brighton, so it hadn’t been hard to find one who was accepting new patients. Molly had an appointment two days after she arrived in Brighton, giving her enough time to settle into the new flat and get her feet under her. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She arrived at the cheery office for her appointment, filled in some forms and was shown into an exam room. The midwife came in a short time later. “Good day Ms. Hooper, my name is Elizabeth Renfrew. I’ll be your midwife, I hope you don’t mind but we are a teaching practice, this is my resident Mary Morstan, if it is alright with you she will be observing and assisting.”

“Yes, that’s fine thanks. Your secretary did say about you being a teacher.” Molly said as she rose and shook both woman’s hands. Elizabeth was a woman in her late fifties, with strong capable hands and a warm and open face. Mary was about Molly’s age, and was very similar in looks and height, her hands were soft and gentle. They smiled at each other as they resumed their seats. 

Elizabeth flipped open Molly’s file and glanced over it, before folding her arms and looking at Molly. “So how are you doing?”

“Pretty good, I think, I’ve got a bit of morning sickness. The first thing I eat in the morning comes back up again five minutes later, doesn’t matter what I eat. But second breakfast stays in.” Molly smiled a bit and looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap. ”I read that morning sickness is a good thing though.”

Elizabeth made a note in Molly’s file. “It is different for everyone, but sometimes morning sickness means an easier labour. And it should ease off in the next couple weeks. It says here you are about two and a half months in, morning sickness usually only lasts the first trimester. You are pretty sure about your dates?”

Molly bit her lip and stilled her hands on her lap. “Yes, there wasn’t any… It was just the once.” She turned away towards the window, biting her lip and trying not to let her tears fall. “Sorry, I’m not usually like this… must be hormones.” she forced a giggle.

Mary looked at Elizabeth, who nodded, then reached forward to put her hand on Molly’s knee. “There is nothing to be sorry for, Ms. Hooper. We are sorry to have upset you.” She reached over with her free hand and snagged a tissue from the box on a side table. “Here you go.”

Molly took the tissue and swiped at her eyes, a genuine tiny smile showing on her lips at Mary’s kind words. “Please call me Molly, Ms. Hooper sounds like… well not me anyway. Besides, it is really Doctor, but that’s even worse!” Her smile widened.

Mary smiled back, looking into Molly’s eyes. “What kind of Doctor are you Molly?”

Molly broke eye contact, looking at Elizabeth “I work in forensics, this isn’t really my division.” She made a small sweeping gesture, to indicate the office and midwifery in general. 

Mary leaned back slightly, taking her hand from Molly’s knee but somehow not drawing away completely. “Don’t be silly, birth and death are everyone’s division.” 

The three women talked more about what Molly should expect, the appointment schedule and Elizabeth made an appointment for Molly to have some blood drawn. Mary gave her a list of vitamins and supplements for her to take. And they calculated her due date for March twenty second. 

Molly was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the end of the appointment. She had more papers and a buzzing list of things to do in her head. As they rose to go Mary turned to Molly and put her hand on her shoulder. “You will be fine Molly. Don’t worry.”

Molly smiled “Thanks. It is all a bit strange still, that’s all.”

Mary smiled back “I’m not sure that goes away, but we will help you. I mean it, you will be fine.”

Molly looked down at her shoes “Thanks, I think I will.”

Molly went out to the receptionist and booked her next appointment. She was about to leave when Mary came out from the office. “Oh Molly, glad I caught you, I teach a pre-natal yoga class at the community centre, it is nice and relaxing but good for your core. If you like, I can give you a pamphlet.”

“That’d be lovely thank you Mary.” She took the pamphlet Mary pulled off the wall by the door. “Cheers, then.”

Molly smiled to herself as she walked back back to her flat. 

“I will be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have given Molly a bit of a promotion, the Sherlock wiki says that she is a morgue attendant, but I made her an instructor so that she can go on sabbatical. St. Bart’s really does have a midwifery school though (yay for google research!)
> 
> I wanted to finish this whole thing in one post, but it is turning into a monster (not really but for tumblr it is long)
> 
> Also Mary Morstan! dun dun dun… this might be a never ending plot bunny hole. The more of this I write the more I want to. But I can feel the Johnstrade reunion fic calling to me too, so never fear!
> 
> Thank you for the lovely prompts, sherlolly seems to have a bigger following than johnstrade. which is perversely making me want to write more johnstrade. I will see what I can do on the prompts. not promising anything.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Molly become friends.

Molly went to yoga classes, she took her vitamins and went to all of her appointments. Mary graduated to full midwife and took over Molly’s care. They heard the heart beat and all the tests came back normal. Molly was a little anemic so she had to take some extra iron. She did the horrible test for gestational diabetes, even though there was very little chance of it. There was probably a special place in hell for who ever it was that thought up starving pregnant women (really just a 12 hour fast) then giving them a bunch of sugar to see if they could still properly process it. By the end she was queasy and felt like she could eat a horse.

She made a couple friends in the yoga class. But she found it very painful to talk to them, having almost nothing in common with them. Mostly happy professional soon-to-be mums, with stable lives and husbands to take them to lamaze classes. Staggeringly different from her own experience, and she hated that they always seemed to be pitying her. Or whispering about her lack of husband behind her back. After once explaining what her job had entailed the ones that did work on their own mostly stopped talking to her as well. After one yoga class Stacy asked Molly to go out for coffee. Molly rolled up her mat and made an excuse about having to meet up with someone else.

After Stacy left, Molly dawdled in the change room, she really didn’t have anywhere to be. The only thing she had to do was go to the university library to do some research on microbes, and there really wasn’t any rush. She slung her bag over her should and left the changing area. She was almost to the door when Mary caught up to her.

“Hello Molly! Headed home?” Mary smiled and held the door open for Molly.

“Thanks, I’m getting to be a bit of a boat!” at almost seven months she felt gigantic, she wasn’t sure how she was going to manage the final two months. “Thank god for stretchy trousers! But I’m always growing out of them.”

“I’ve a friend who runs a really great maternity consignment shop, I usually pop down to visit her for tea after class. If you haven’t got anything on we could go and find you some nice things.” Mary’s smile was easy and free, and Molly couldn’t see any reason to say no. 

The shop was lovely, and Molly found a couple nice outfits with room for her tummy to grow into them. They had tea and Molly let the gossip that she didn’t know anything about flow past her, making appropriate noises of agreement or concern. When they finished their tea and Molly had paid for her new outfits they stood somewhat awkwardly on the pavement outside the store. 

“Lunch?” asked Mary. “Jamie’s Italian is just down the way.”

Molly was starving, but she said “You don’t have to keep me company, though. I’m okay on my own.”

Mary tilted her head sideways, taking Molly’s bags from her. “You don’t think you are the one keeping ME company! C’mon, I’m starved. Besides Sam would have had me in there sorting new stock all afternoon, you rescued me!”

Molly found that she could talk to Mary about her work, she was still careful to leave out details of where, and with whom she had worked. And she was interested in Mary’s training. “I couldn’t do what you do, I tried in med school, to be a proper doctor I mean. Sometimes it is difficult, when someone dies horribly. But mostly it is peaceful, calm almost. And I like solving the puzzles." She dropped her gaze to her lap "You must think I’m strange.”

Mary put her hand over Molly’s on the table. “I think it is fascinating, makes me a bit squidgy thinking about it, I couldn’t do what you do either. But I don’t think it is weird, just different.”

Their lunches arrived and they tucked in, mostly silent except to compliment something on their plates. When they finished they split the check and tumbled out onto the street. 

Mary sighed “Well, today is my “off” day from the office. If I don’t go home and do laundry I’ll be smelly tomorrow at work.” She put air quotes around “off” Midwives never really had time off, they were always on call, babies wanted to be born when they wanted to be born. “This has been fun, next week after class?”

Molly had had a good time, she hadn’t realized how much she missed the company of friends in London.

“Sure, it is a date.” She said, blushing as she realized what she had said. 

Mary didn’t notice the blush, or at least pretended not to, giving Molly a quick friendly hug. “Sounds great, see you next week!” She smiled at Molly as she turned to go. 

Molly picked up her bags and headed for home, trying not to worry that her heart had thumped a bit when Mary had hugged her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there is something seriously wrong with my brain. Can I ship Mary Morstan and Molly Hooper, apparently the answer is yes, yes I can. Should I? That remains to be seen. For some reason I am emotionally invested in seeing this through to the birth of the baby, maybe even as far as Sherlock’s return. Someone tell me if I should quit while I am ahead. 
> 
> Since it is Monday, and I have the day off I thought I would write all day (read surf tumblr a bunch and write this in fits and starts)
> 
> Also what should I call the baby?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are definitely flirting. Molly just doesn't know it yet.

Molly knew that it wasn’t really paranoia if someone was actually chasing you. The horrible thing was that it didn’t look like anyone actually was, Sherlock was right, everyone believed that she didn’t matter. She tried not to be jealous of John, it was very confusing emotionally to be jealous of someone for having a sniper rifle aimed at them. When she allowed herself to remember all the things John had suffered as the price of Sherlock Holmes’ public regard she shuddered and stroked her hand over her rounded belly. She would take his secret (and in this case unknown) affection any day.   
She had run the most through background check on Mary Morstan that she was capable of with google and facebook. Either Mary was the deepest (and potentially most useless) deep cover agent in Jim’s arsenal, or she was a life long resident of Brighton with friends and relatives and pictures of her vacations with the same. For the first time she missed having access to Sherlock, and his other resources. Now that he was looking for it he would be able to tell if Mary was a plant. But Sherlock had said it would be safer for both of them if they weren’t in touch, not that she would know how to start to find him. She flipped through the contacts in her phone. She could call Greg Lestrade, he might do her a favour, she even had a contact for Mycroft Holmes (given to her by his somewhat terrifying assistant after the incident at Christmas) but calling either of them would only draw attention to her. “Molly why are you running background checks on a midwife in Brighton, what is going on?” She wasn’t sure that Greg wouldn’t turn her over to Mycroft, and she was pretty sure Mycroft would whisk her away if he knew.

The fact that she hadn’t been whisked away suggested that Mycroft wasn’t watching her. There was a tiny nagging doubt that maybe Mycroft was having Mary watch her, but if that was the case Mary wasn’t pressing for information. They didn’t talk about the father of her soon to be born child. They did talk about work, and the film they went to at the cinema, the weather, and what colours to buy in onesies. Mary helped her to buy and set up a crib, she had even organized a small shower with some of the girls from the yoga class. They were spending a wholly inappropriate amount of time together for a midwife/client relationship. Molly couldn’t give up the only friend she had just because she might be a spy for the British government.

Molly sighed and dialed Mary’s number. She answered on the second ring. “Hello Molly! Alright?” Mary was in concerned midwife mode whenever Molly initiated contact, and doubly so now that they were in the final week. 

“Yup, I’m fine. Just torn between nesting and needing to get out of the house.”

“Well, I’m on call, but frankly you are the only one due to pop right now. So I could be on call from the library? Don’t you need to return some books?”

Molly looked at the small stack of novels on the landing table. “I finished the last one yesterday. I don’t want you to think that I called you just so you would carry my books. I’m buying lunch.” Suddenly she was glad they hadn’t invented video phones yet, she was blushing furiously as she realized she had just called up Mary and asked her out on a date. _After you just did your version of a background check on her too, well done Molly._

Mary’s laugh was sweet and genuine. “Library first then Jamie’s Italian. Or should we feed the pregnant lady first?” she laughed again. “Never mind, I’ve answered my own question. I’ll be round in 15 to pick you up.”

Molly laughed as well. “Always feed the pregnant lady first. I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

“See you in a bit then.” And she ended the call. 

Molly sighed and glanced around the flat. “Alright girl get yourself together.” Pregnancy brain had done horrible things to her memory and she was always misplacing something that she needed to go out. She checked her bag, keys, phone, wallet all present and accounted for. She slipped her arms into the tent she was currently wearing as a spring jacket and found a canvas tote for the library books. Then she stood by the door and checked herself again. The building manager was a lovely older man, but he was getting tired of letting her into the flat when she forgot her keys.

In the lobby she glanced at the faux park bench before just setting down her purse and the tote of library books. She was finding lately that sitting down was only worth the effort of getting back up again if she was going to be able to stay seated for more than a few minutes. She wouldn’t have to wait long for Mary, and the effort wasn’t justified, so she settled for leaning her hip against the end of the bench.

Mary’s van pulled up several minutes later, and Molly gathered her things and made her way out to her. Mary put the van in park and came out to meet her. “Hello Gorgeous!”

Molly snorted even as her heart performed a complex gymnastic routine in her chest. “You need your eyes checked. I’m waddling like a penguin!” She let Mary take her purse and bag and put them on the back seat of the van. “And you are about to help me into your van.”

“I see perfectly, and I am going to help you into the van, because it is horrible to climb into.” It was true, the high level of the van made it horrible to climb up into with a giant pregnancy belly, but it meant you could basically fall out of it and land on your feet. Mary took hold of Molly’s elbow and helped her climb up. And it seemed Molly’s heart had a future in Olympic gymnastics as Mary put her other hand on Molly’s lower back.

Molly buckled herself in, and Mary ran around the front of the van. She smiled as she started down the road. “So Jamie’s?”

“Maybe I should name the baby Jamie, it would work for either a boy or a girl. We certainly eat there enough.” Molly flinched again, realizing that she had insinuated that the two of them eating there together was a reason to name her baby after a restaurant chef. “I mean, I can’t think of what to name her.” Molly was convinced she was having a boy, but she tried to use both pronouns.

Mary just glanced over at Molly, “It is okay to wait until after the baby comes to pick a name. There is no rush.”

“I know.” Molly crossed her arms over her belly and they rode the rest of the way to the restaurant in silence. Molly slid out of the van and waited for Mary by the door. They went to their favourite table, pretended to look at the menu, but they had done this so often in the last four months that they knew what they wanted. 

Molly picked up the thread of the conversation from the car. “I just think, that if I know what to call him, that somehow… I don’t know, that it will make me a better mother. I mean, I’m not good at people. Babies, they aren’t really people… no sorry… that’s wrong. I mean they are people. But this one.” She let her hand rest on her stomach, dropping her eyes from Mary’s gaze. “I mean she’s mine. But she will be a _person_. How am I meant to take care of a person?” 

Mary lent across the table as far as she could, reaching out her hand for Molly’s. “Molly, I know we haven’t talked about this much, but are you sure the father…”

Molly barked out a harsh laugh. “No, he’s not. He’s the most amazing man I know, but no. He is the opposite of parental.” She tried to picture Sherlock with a child, and failed utterly. She could not even conjure caricatures of him holding a babe at arms length. “He’s impossible to explain unless you have met him, without him sounding like a work of fiction.”

“What about adoption then? It isn’t too late to find a family…” Mary trailed off as Molly stroked her belly again.

“No. I couldn’t, we might be the worst possible combination of parents for a child, but I could not bear to let go of this baby.” Molly smiled ruefully. “Is this your way of talking me round to realizing that I will be a good mum? At least I hope it is?”

“This is why they pay me the big dollars.” Mary laughed, leaning back as their food arrived.

Molly looked down at her plate. Twisting her napkin in her hands. “I don’t know what I will do without you.” she said in a small voice.

“Molly Hooper. Now you are just being daft. I am your friend, and yes it is a little complicated in that I happen to also be your midwife, but if you think I will abandon you once this baby is born you have another thing coming. You can’t get rid of me that easily!”

Molly smiled, feeling a weight lifting from her chest. They spent the rest of the meal talking about the latest novel Molly had read (baby brain had made it impossible for her to focus on the research she was supposed to be doing as part of her sabbatical) and the newest Hollywood trivia. 

Molly went up to the counter to use her card to pay for lunch. The waiter was one of their regulars. “You must be excited, can’t be long now.” He said.

“Yes, any minute now it seems.” Molly said, smiling. He was one of those people you couldn’t resist talking to, even if like herself, you normally wouldn’t talk to strangers.

“Have you and your partner decided on a name yet?” he asked.

“Ah, no. We were just talking about putting Jamie on the list though.” She blurted out, turning crimson and dropping her gaze to the floor. _Oh god oh god oh god_ her brain felt stuck in a loop. This person she barely knew, she wasn’t even sure of his name, thought that Mary and her were a couple, that they were having a baby together. And Molly couldn’t decide whether she was mortified or elated. _But I didn’t correct him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really wanted this chapter to include the birth of the baby. Damn my verbosity, maybe I need an editor. Or just not to worry about it. 
> 
> Also I am in no way associated with Jamie’s Italian, I have never been there, and know next to nothing about it. I just googled restaurants in Brighton and it was one of the first to come up. As I wanted some semblance of coherence in my story, and I was too lazy to find another one to be “their place” for this chapter. 
> 
> I would very much appreciate any feedback you guys can give. Am I writing too much? not enough? Do you hate it? More smut? (yes I know the first rule of fan fiction is always more smut.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes this fic is actually about pregnancy, and sometimes pregnancy freaks people out. 
> 
> I am going to most likely skip the screaming and blood section of the story. If the child actually ever arrives.

It is a myth or a Hollywood cliche that a woman’s water breaks and then suddenly someone is shouting “One more push, you are almost there.” Molly is sure that it must sometimes happen like that, but it wasn’t like that for her. They had gone to the library, and she was walking through the shelves slowly, looking at spines for something that would catch her attention. 

The sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before. And pregnancy had been full of weird new sensations. The weird fluttery feeling that Mary told her was the baby hiccoughing, a feeling like the baby was trying to stand up and stretch his arms out at the same time that stole her breath, and being able to see an elbow poking out of her tummy. This one was new, and it felt exactly like an eight pound baby falling several inches inside her and stopping abruptly.   
Mary found her, with her head resting on her crossed arms on a shelf and breathing deeply. “Alright?” Mary put a hand on Molly’s lower back and one on her elbow.

Molly tilted her head to the side and looked at Mary. “I’m fine. Just winded a bit, and I didn’t realize that ‘the baby drops’ meant that I would fell like someone dropped a brick inside my stomach.” 

Mary smiled. “Yeah? Any pain?”

“Nope, but I think I want to stand here a minute more, I actually feel like I can breathe better now. She’s off my diaphragm.” she turned her head back down to the floor and took several more deep breaths.

Mary stayed beside her, rubbing small circles in Molly’s lower back. Until she raised her head again and pushed away from the shelf. “Yes. All better now. But I think I’d like to go home.” She grabbed three mostly random books off the shelf and Mary took them from her.

“Yes ma’am” Mary said with a big grin on her face. “As you say, ma’am.”

Molly swatted at Mary’s arm. “Oi, enough sass.” They both smiled as they walked back down the shelves and made their way to the front of the library. Mary stood in the line with Molly’s card while Molly propped herself up against the information desk. 

They shoe-horned Molly back into the van and Mary drove back to Molly’s flat. By the time they got there Mary could tell that Molly was exhausted. She shouldered Molly’s purse along with her own bag and fished out the keys to her flat. “Alright, love. I’ve got this stuff, you carry yourself.”

Molly concentrated on walking up the path to her building. _She called me love, it is just a thing people say to each other, don’t panic. She is just being sweet, because maybe I am about to have this baby._ Molly managed to convince herself that Mary was just being friendly, and tried to ignore the sense of disappointment that came along with that. _I haven’t ever… I’m not gay. My hormones are just all wonky, I’m craving attention and affection because of the baby. And Mary is the only one here to give me that, she is lovely though…_ Molly suppressed a shudder at the idea of Mary leaving after the baby was born. She would have other clients, and Molly wouldn’t have any more excuses to call her. Their friendship had grown into something that Molly needed, but it was based on the fact of Molly’s pregnancy. 

Mary was holding the lobby door open. “Come along Pond.”

Molly snorted “So you are saying if it is a girl we should name her Melody? Or River?”

Mary laughed. “I vote River. But Melody Hooper has a ring to it too.”

Molly had to squeeze by Mary in the doorway, and Mary put her arm around Molly as she passed, pulling her into the building. Mary pushed the elevator button with Molly’s keys. “We’ll get you upstairs and then we can watch those Doctor Who dvds I brought you the other day.”

“You don’t have to go?” Molly fought a blush, hating how needy she sounded. There wasn’t anything she would rather do than cuddle up on the sofa with Mary and watch a marathon of Who.

“I told you, you are the only one likely to burst. And there aren’t any appointments today.” Mary smiled and held her arm in the door of the elevator as it opened. “Your chariot ma’am.”

Molly relaxed slightly, stepping onto the elevator. “You really don’t think I’ll burst do you?” She ran her hands over her stomach, feeling a bump that was probably a foot.

“Anything is possible with babies, they come in their own time. I’m going to check your blood pressure when we get upstairs. But I think, if you were going to pop you’d have noticed by now.”

The elevator stopped on Molly’s floor, Mary went down the hall first and unlocked the door. She held it open for Molly and then went through into the kitchen. “Tea? Some of the fruity stuff you like with honey?”

“Oh, yes please.” Molly dropped herself down on the sofa unceremoniously. 

Mary flipped on stove and put the kettle on then came into the sitting room, fishing a inflatable cuff and stethoscope from her bag. “Arm. Gimmie.”

Molly dutifully held out her arm. “I swear that bag must be bigger on the inside. Do you always carry this much stuff?”

“When I’m on call, which is always, yes. Now shush.” Mary sat on the coffee table, with her knees touching Molly’s and wrapped the cuff around her arm. Molly flinched a bit as the collar inflated, she had always hated the squeezing sensation. But she did her best not to fidget while Mary took the reading. When she was finished Mary tutted. “A bit low, I’ll take it again in a bit, but nothing to worry about.”

Mary returned to the kitchen and came back with tea and biscuits, setting them on the coffee table. Mary had the box set of the new series, and they had been doing a massive rewatch starting from Nine. “We were just up to Empty Child yeah?”

Molly shuddered “Are you my mummy? But at least it has John Barrowman.” Molly reached forward to grab her tea. 

Mary made a noise of agreement. “Jack Captain Hooper? Like Alfred Lord Tennyson? Oh, or Gwen Hooper. That’s a stealthy one.”

“Actually that’s not bad. I can’t seem to settle on girl names. I really like Vincent or Rory for boys though. But I suppose I can just call it Stormageddon for the first little while, if nothing seems to suit.

They settled on the sofa together and pressed play on the remote. The episode had lost some of its scare factor on multiple viewings, and Molly’s head felt like it was made of lead, she fell asleep before the Doctor visited the hospital, her head on Mary’s shoulder. 

Mary managed to worm her arm around Molly’s shoulder without disturbing the other woman, and pull the throw off the back of the couch. With some more quiet maneuvering she covered them both in the blanket and sat back to watch the end of the episode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god I intended to have this damn kid already. Vincent and Rory have the benefit of being Who characters and also characters played by Benedict.


	8. Sherlock sends word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is asleep on the couch.  
> She can lucid dream.  
> Sherlock has an opinion. 
> 
> Again with the death references. Mortician is in the title though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friendlyneighborhoodsociopath answered: Sherlolly, with John/Sherlock friendship. Sherlock is badly hurt in an alley, but doesn’t want to call John, so he calls Molly instead. :3
> 
> thebloggerbloggerfun answered: Molly gets an unusual text from Sherlock, and she hurries over to his flat :)
> 
> I’m going to do this, but entirely different. Hope you don’t mind. Also sorry that it took so long to do. (this originally was written on tumblr and was absolutely ages in internet time from the time of the prompt until this, which is barely a prompt fill) I didn’t forget, it just took a while to ferment is all.

Molly was dreaming, she knew she was dreaming because she couldn’t make her phone work. No matter how hard she pressed or what she tried she couldn’t make the phone dial the number she needed. That’s not what happened anyway, I never called John. I should have called John but what would I have said to him? He never would have believed me anyway. Sherlock made him watch, he saw it, he would never believe me.

Molly put the useless phone back in her pocket, she walked down the stairs behind Desmond. This had happened, she had watched Desmond carry Jim’s body down from the roof, she had helped him arrange it on the gurney and they had gotten in the lift together. Molly was very good at lucid dreaming, so there would not be any horrors here, Jim would not sit up in the bag and start singing. No blood would start to flow and fill the elevator. 

They went down to the morgue, and Desmond helped her move the body into one of the storage freezers, only now she was massively pregnant. Desmond looked at her, stomach, “Does he know?” 

Molly smiled, sad now. “No, I never told him. It was too late by the time I knew for sure, and he… well it would have been dangerous for both of us.”

“He’ll be here soon, you could tell him then.” Desmond closed the door on the slab, sealing Jim away.

Molly smiled “You don’t think he will notice?” but she already knew what happened next, Sherlock came down to the morgue. Molly would take pictures, for the file. Mycroft would call, but he wouldn’t come down, and Molly would go out to John. But by then Sherlock would be gone, and he would never look back. She understood, she did. If he stopped to look back he wouldn’t be able to pull himself away from John. She had barely managed it and she wasn’t in love with him. Words could not describe the sorrow of John Watson, Molly knew that Sherlock was alive, she had lied to John to keep him from harm. Molly knew that it was the worst thing she had ever done. 

But she knew in all of that Sherlock would not stop and look at her either. Some days Molly knew that it was because she mattered. She knew that he couldn’t stop, he had to keep moving or they would all be in danger. So she smoothed her lab coat over her stomach and the let the magic of the dream hide the baby from the world’s only consulting detective. It didn’t matter, there had been nothing for him to see when this had really happened, it didn’t mean anything that he wouldn’t see it again.

Dream time is different, things can take only the blink of an eye or the dream can make you wait, until it seems as though your entire being has been paused. She turned, this time, and Desmond was gone. Sherlock was on her table, the blood matted in his hair made his features appear colder and pale. Her breath hitched and she forced herself to move forward. She picked up her camera from her instrument table and moved to his side.

“Hold still.”

He smirked, and then let his face fall slack. Molly had shown the pictures to John and Mycroft. John hadn’t been able to look, but Mycroft had stared for several minutes, before sliding the photos back into the envelope and placing them on his desk. He’d said “Thank you Doctor Hooper.” and she had seen the broken edges of his sadness in his eyes. Molly didn’t know what to do then, she had left him alone. She had left them all alone, at the end. John, Mycroft and Sherlock.

“Molly,” Sherlock spoke softly and Molly’s dream awareness snapped back to the moment in the morgue, taking photos. He hadn’t said that though, he hadn’t said anything to her, not then.

“Molly, I’ve always liked Vincent for a boy, or Amelia for a girl.”

“Oh.” Molly woke with a start, warm under the blanket with Mary’s arm around her and the theme music from Doctor Who playing. “Oh!” She said again as she registered a distinctly uncomfortable pressure/pain. 

Mary startled out of a half doze, “Stormageddeon it is then.”

Molly laughed despite her discomfort. “Quick, someone call the midwife.”

Mary smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” They were already quite close together on the sofa, Mary’s arm around Molly’s shoulders, and Mary only had to tilt forward slightly to plant a light kiss on Molly’s cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really really sorry, I know this isn’t want you wanted. But Sherlock did send Molly a message (sort of) and there was phone involved. I had every intention of writing your prompts as an AU off the main sherlolly plot. And I tried. oh god did I try. But my smut is NOT GOOD, and I know that is what you wanted, so despite my best efforts I could not think of anything that I could do to make the prompt work. Sherlolly isn’t my main pairing so this is already hard for me to write. Please don’t hate me. 
> 
> This concludes the posting festival. I hope you enjoy. The baby is almost definitely getting born in the next chapter. But I have to write that chapter, so I should get on that.  
> Please leave comments kudos or suggestions. Thanks so much.


	9. The Baby Boss! The Baby.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last the happy day is here, if the idea of labour makes you green I suggest you skip the bit after the break. There isn't anything graphic in particular. But better safe than sorry.
> 
> Molly and Mary discuss stuff.
> 
> Have I mentioned I am rubbish at summaries?

Molly blushed as Mary pulled away. “I... What do I do?”

Mary smiled, and bent down to root through her purse at her feet. “Well, 1. Midwife called. check. 2. Tea required? Snack? water?” Molly shook her head. “No. Then 3. Provide arm to Midwife, that’s me, for blood pressure check.”

Molly dutifully held out her arm, but every tiny brush of Mary’s fingers made her heart race. Molly chewed on her lip _she kissed me_ Molly thought, her brain running around in circles. _On the cheek, calm down. It doesn’t mean anything._ She ducked her head to the side and stared at the carpet at her feet. 

Mary took her stethoscope out of her ears and pulled the velcro apart on the cuff. “Your blood pressure is back to normal, but your heart rate is a bit fast.” Mary hooked Molly’s chin and raised her face to look her in the eye. “Alright?”

“Yeah I think I am good. Just excited, and scared. I was almost used to it, you know. I thought it was never going to end.” There was a hint of panic in Molly’s voice, but the firm pressure of Mary’s fingers was calming. Molly looked into Mary’s eyes and saw a hesitation, as though Mary was drawing away and she was missing her chance. “No!” she squeaked as she pushed forward and caught Mary’s lips with hers, her hands coming up to either side of Mary’s face. She brushed a quick kiss against Mary’s lips “Please.” And something in Mary cracked, she relaxed, leaning in towards Molly and parting her lips slightly. Molly brushed her tongue across Mary’s lower lip. It was obvious that neither of them had expected this. They were both holding back, not wanting to push too far or too fast.

Molly inhaled sharply as Mary pulled away. “Molly, this isn’t a good idea. You are actually a giant ball of hormones right now. And that is fine, but we shouldn’t...” She ran her finger along Molly’s bottom lip. “I’m not going anywhere, but I... you are... maybe after?”

“God, I’m sorry. I am a mess, and I’ve always been a mess. But it isn’t just now, I... for a while now. But I thought maybe you were a spy, oh god please don’t be a spy.” Molly dropped her head into her hands. “No... sorry.”

Mary laughed. “I’m definitely not interesting enough to be a spy. But really, awhile?”

“Spies don’t have to be interesting. The best spies are the ones that no one ever sees. You being a spy would fit rather nicely into my romantic history, actually.” Molly said all this to her hands, trying to stifle the tears that were threatening to fall. oh god if I she asks I will have to lie.

“So am I too boring or too interesting to be a spy?” Mary asked as she gathered Molly up into her arms. She tucked Molly’s head under her chin and ran soothing hands over her shoulder and back.

Molly relaxed into the embrace. “Boring is good.” She made a strangled noise that was half sob half laugh. “God I just want something real. This time with you... I never thought I would want normal. But I think I have had enough excitement for a while.”

“I am going to take that as a compliment.” 

Molly snuggled deeper into Mary’s arms. She had expected more contractions, but so far nothing was happening. “Oh god. Sorry, yes normal is definitely a compliment. I just never pictured myself... well having kids, settling down and all that. And I try to imagine what he would do, if he were here. But I can’t. I can’t imagine everyday life with him.” Molly blushed, realizing that she was saying she could imagine living every day with Mary. “Well I can’t imagine anything with him. Not anymore.”

Mary kissed the top of Molly’s head, “So, how? I mean... what happened?” Mary had been concerned for some time that Molly had escaped an abusive relationship, she hadn’t pressed Molly for information but it had made her feel very protective of the other woman. Everything Molly said about the father of her child made it seem as though he was out of the picture permanently, but she often seemed wistful when she spoke about him.

Molly was quiet for several moments. She shifted once as another wave of uncomfortable pressure passed through her. Mary surreptitiously checked her watch and noted the time, not pressing Molly to talk just keeping track of the contractions. Molly made a decision, she had to protect Sherlock, she was sure that Mary would not turn her in, but she also could not confide the whole story. 

“How much do you know about Sherlock Holmes?” Molly asked.  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The ride to the hospital was the worst experience of Molly’s life. Mary was a careful driver, but by the time they left Molly’s flat her contractions were only a few minutes apart. Every stop light and pedestrian crossing the road caused Mary to slow down, causing Molly to roll forward in her seat, and then back again as Mary pressed the accelerator. “ _God just run them down, what are they doing crossing the road anyway?_ ” Molly was cursing constantly through her clenched jaw. “When this is over I am going to write to the... _sweet jesus christ why are there so many traffic lights?_ Midwives should have emergency services lights like the police. _I know fifteen ways to kill you, get out of the way!_ ”

The more she had talked about Sherlock the faster her contractions had become. Molly wasn’t sure that Mary understood. Sometimes she felt that there was no way to explain Sherlock Holmes without sounding like a lunatic. Molly had started at the beginning, which was also really the end. Sherlock was real, he was a genius and, although deeply flawed, a good person. Mary tended not to believe all the headlines, and shock stories in the newspaper. Which helped, but Molly could tell that Mary thought Molly was a bit deluded.  
Molly was prepared to accept that she had been manipulated by Sherlock, often and without remorse. And she tried to explain to Mary that he didn’t have the same priorities as other people. Everything that Sherlock did was about solving the puzzle, he would do whatever was necessary to accomplish that goal. Whether it was a well placed compliment, that may or may not be sincere, or the rare occasions where he would trade his knowledge, or skills for something that he needed. He would always help if Molly needed him, whether it was identifying a cause of death or providing a second set of eyes in her research. “He is just more honest than most people about his selfishness. He won’t bother to lie to you.” As long as he benefits.

Mary pulled into the reserved parking at the hospital, pulling a special parking pass from her glove compartment and hooking it over the mirror. “Can you walk, or should I go get a chair?”

Molly had already pushed open the door on her side of the van, “I’ll walk. I might kill something if I have to wait.” She slid out of the van and headed for the entrance to the hospital.

Mary reached behind the seat and grabbed Molly’s hospital bag and their purses, following quickly after the other woman. “Remind me to stay on your good side.”

“Get me some drugs, and you will be on my good side permanently.”

Mary smiled as she approached the check in counter. “Mary Morstan, midwife. With Molly Hooper, mamma bear. I believe you are expecting us. I think we will go straight through to delivery please.” Mary had called before they left the flat to make sure the hospital knew they were coming. 

Molly had commandeered a wheel chair for herself, and Mary was proud that she had managed to wait while Mary signed them in without swearing or threatening any of the staff. Mary knew many of the nurses, and she knew that nothing Molly could come up with would scare them. A&E nurses had nothing on maternity ward nurses, they had actual nerves of steel. Mary hooked the bags over the handles and pushed Molly down the hall to their delivery room. The hospital nurse followed along. Mary was in charge, but the hospital nurse would be there to assist if she needed anything.

Mary opened the door and pushed Molly in, the room was dark and warm, with just one small light on the chart table in the corner. There was a couch and chairs and an adjustable bed, as well as a private bathroom with a shower. Mary helped Molly up onto the bed and bent down, pulling up a mask attached to a clear tube. Mary adjusted the flow valve and handed the mask to Molly. “Laughing gas.”

“You are the most beautiful person in the whole world.” Molly took several deep lungfuls through the mask and collapsed back onto the bed. The beautiful thing about laughing gas is that it allows you to maintain control over most of your body, and still accomplish simple tasks while convincing your brain that your body is no longer in pain.  
Molly’s experience from there on in was fragmented. Eventually Mary took the mask away, but Molly didn’t remember any pain. (The body doesn’t remember what the pain feels like, only that it was in pain, and once the baby is born you get a kick of endorphins and adrenaline to make up for all the horrible bits that came before.) There were some truly weird sensations of the cord being cut, and the placenta. And then Molly was holding a little boy in her arms. His fingers were terrifyingly small and pointed, and he was wrinkled and red. 

She didn’t actually remember going upstairs to a hospital room either, Mary said that they would have to stay overnight. She sat with Molly and showed her how to make sure he latched on properly, and showed her how to swaddle him. Once he was sleeping she put him down in a plexiglass crib beside Molly’s bed. Molly collapsed back into the bed, exhausted. “You should sleep. I have to go move the van into regular parking.” Molly made a small noise at the idea of Mary leaving. “And I will get you some lunch, or breakfast, anyway food. And come back to help you with the paperwork. I’ll stay.” She stroked Molly’s hand gently. “Sleep now, I’ll stay.”

Molly’s eyes drooped and Mary brought her hand up quickly and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll be here when you wake up. He won’t sleep for long, close your eyes.”

Molly was asleep before Mary could switch off the light and close the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well a baby boy. This is not the end.


	10. I believe in me and you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Reichenbach day, everyone.
> 
> Mary and Molly click into place.

Mary sighed as she parked the van for the second time at the hospital, she would have to stretch the rules a bit to stay with Molly tonight, but it was obvious that Molly did not want to be alone. More importantly Mary did not want to leave her alone.

She pulled out her phone and glanced at the hospital before opening Safari, she quirked her mouth a bit, if only the hospital would let her know when Molly and the baby woke up. She typed “Sherlock Holmes” into the google bar. All of the news articles about the suicide were from nine months ago, Mary flinched. The timeline was right, she tried googling Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes. Nothing official came up, but there was a frightfully pink blog that had belonged to Molly. It hadn’t been updated in over a year and seemed to be mostly about someone named Jim. Mary clicked a couple of the entries but found nothing. The last message was a bit cryptic, someone had lied, but it was probably this Jim guy.  
The only other articles about Sherlock where from the Daily Mail. Screaming about how the results of the inquiry were still being kept under wraps, and that DI Lestrade was still employed by the Met. 

Mary scrubbed her hands over her face. Sherlock was dead, but Molly slipped sometimes and spoke of him in the present tense, or even the future. Trying to imagine how he would react to the birth of their son. She hadn’t offered any details of the baby’s conception, beyond that it had only been a single encounter. Mary felt tears well in her eyes as she calculated the timing of Molly’s pregnancy, she pulled Molly’s case file from her bag, checking the dates on the article about Sherlock’s death against the date of conception. Mary choked on a sob, of course Molly wanted to keep the baby. She had loved Sherlock, even though he had been somewhat horrible to her. Mary wasn’t sure that she understood why, he had obviously hurt Molly, but there was no denying the way that Molly had described him. Mary felt a surge of protective anger, directed futilely at the dead man. How could he have abandoned Molly like that?

“Well he is gone, but you are here, so get in there Mary.” Mary gathered up her things and dashed back into the hospital. She grabbed a package of birth documents from the desk and took it upstairs to Molly’s room. Opening the door quietly she snuck in and felt her way slowly to the armchair beside the bed. There was a blanket slung over the back and she quietly settled down. The second rule of Midwifery is “Never wake a sleeping baby.” after “Always feed the pregnant woman first.”  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She must have dozed off in the warm dark room because she was startled awake by the sound of the baby mewling for Molly. She reached over and turned on the small bedside lamp.

Molly gasped as she started awake. “You are here.”

“Yup. Said I would be didn’t I?” Mary pulled herself up and crossed to the other side of the bed, lifting the little boy gently and placing him in Molly’s arms. “Fill him up and I will watch him so you can have a shower.”

Molly wrinkled her nose, “I feel...” she shuddered “hideous.”

Mary smiled, brushing Molly’s hair back from her face. “You look amazing, gorgeous as always.” She made sure Molly was looking, and could see her smile before adding. “But you are a bit ripe.”

Molly blushed, but giggled. “Oh god I am. Yes, shower good.” She looked down at the baby in her arms. “Hullo, Vincent.” She gasped as the baby as he pecked at her, rooting. “He’s so strong, I didn’t think babies could move around so much.”

Mary smiled. “They are stronger than we give them credit for. Couple little pokes and prods and I think we can go home later. You decided on Vincent?” She crossed over to the chair and pulled out the package of paperwork.

Molly adjusted, pulling the baby closer to her, smiling down at him. “I think he looks like a Vincent. I don’t know, do you think it is too formal?”

“No, it is good. He’s a little conqueror.” She opened the package. “You don’t have to decide right away, but we can fill this stuff in if you like.”

Molly was engrossed in watching the baby nurse. “This is weird. A bit.” She sighed “But perfect.” She was quiet for several minutes, and Mary just sat watching them, not wanting to press or intrude.

Vincent was asleep again before his jaw relaxed and his head fell back. Lips moving in little kisses. Molly spoke quietly without looking up at Mary. “I want to go home. Can we go home?”

“The hospital will want to check him and do some blood work before we can go. Have a shower, I’ll stay with him. And then I can go get the release started.” Mary stood and leaned over the bed to look down at the baby. “I’ve got a car seat in the van, we can go home as quick as you like.”

Molly sighed, shifting Vincent in her arms and handing him off to Mary. “Oh.” she huffed out a laugh. “We should probably stop at the shops, I don’t think we have any diapers.” She turned and slid her legs off the bed. 

Mary turned and sat down next to Molly on the edge of the bed. “I bought some yesterday, just forgot to bring them in when we went up.” She looked down at the baby in her arms. “Don’t worry Vince, we’ve plenty of clean nappies.” Mary noticed, but didn’t comment on their both using ‘we’, she was almost certain that Molly meant the three of them but she was afraid to ask.

Molly sighed and leaned against the other woman. “I...” Mary turned to look at her and Molly’s voice caught in her throat, her heart pounding. “You are coming home, aren’t you?”

Mary smiled, her eyes flickering down to Molly’s lips, she met Molly’s gaze again and had her answer. “Yes.” Both women moved forward and closed the gap, pressing lips together gently.

Vincent stirred in Mary’s arms, not quite waking, he stretched against the swaddling blanket and pursed his lips. Mary broke away from the kiss and stood to put him back in the bassinet. “Shower. Paperwork. Home.” She said softly as she settled Vincent down.

Molly nodded “Shower. Paperwork. Home.” she agreed. She rose stiffly from the bed, labour was hard work, _ha ha yes it is a pun_ she thought, and she made a mental note to ask Mary for a massage when they got home. She picked up her overnight bag from the counter beside the door and headed into the bathroom. She didn’t bother to close the door to the bathroom, she wanted to be able to hear if Vincent woke again, and Mary had seen everything worth seeing already today. There is nothing like labour to alter your conception of body modesty. Molly shucked off the rather horrible hospital gown that she didn’t even remember putting on. _Must have done to come upstairs though, probably would have noticed being wheeled down a hospital corridor in my birthday suit_. She almost tossed the gown on the floor, but instead she folded it and placed it on the corner of the counter. No need to make the cleaning staff or nurses do any extra work. She pulled out her shampoo and conditioner and a bar of soap from home from the bag, carefully lining them up on the edge of the tub. Checking the temperature of the water before shucking her knickers and the industrial strenght pad the hospital had given her. _No one warned me about all the blood_ after she shuddered. Another of those things that Hollywood fails to mention about the birth process.

She stepped into the warm shower and sighed as she immediately felt better. Molly turned up the heat in the shower, determined to scald off the layer of sweat that felt like a second skin. She scrubbed at her scalp with the shampoo, repeating the process until her hair squeaked before adding conditioner. 

She considered her current situation as she scrubbed herself down.  
 _1\. The baby is fine_  
2\. I seem to have asked Mary to move in with us.  
3\. Mary said yes.  
4\. I am extremely happy about this.  
5\. I have no idea what to do next.  
Molly assumed that the dynamics of a relationship with another woman would not be very different from those of a relationship with a man. But as they say “the devil is in the details.” She tried to think back on her past relationships, trying to compare them to how she felt about Mary. Sherlock was complicated, she felt a pang as she thought of him, out doing god only knew what on his own. Much of what she felt for him was pure infatuation, but that was not the end. Her brain skittered away from any further examination of her feelings for Sherlock. It kept right on going past Jim as well. Everything that she had thought she knew about him had been a deception designed to gain access to Sherlock. Which was bizarre if you thought about it too hard so she tried not to. All of her boyfriends in grad school and uni had been sweet, but in the end had lost out to her school work or been put off when she showed just a bit too much enthusiasm for corpses (painfully once over Christmas dinner meeting his parents.)

Mary was different. She didn’t flinch when Molly had described cases, she seemed actually interested in pathology despite her vastly different career choice. She was funny and kind and she liked Molly. And the kissing was nice, very nice actually. Mary didn’t seem to be in a rush to go any further, so it seemed they would be able to sort all that out together. Molly resolved to have a proper discussion with Mary once they all got home and settled.

She shut off the shower and reached for a towel from the rack. She heard voices in the main room and froze, half in and half out of the shower. She saw Mary’s arm snake into the room and pull the door most of the way closed and then Mary said “Ms. Hooper, the nurse is here to run some tests on Vincent. If it is okay with you I will go with him and you can finish freshening up.”

Molly was briefly confused by the sudden formality, but then she understood, Mary couldn’t be too familiar with someone who was a patient after all, at least not in front of the hospital staff. 

“Um. Yes, I suppose, will you be long?”

“No, just out to the main desk to weigh him. But they will have to take some blood. Just a pinprick on his foot, he will come back unhappy I am afraid. But if you are ready we can leave after that.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll be ready.” Molly sighed and wrapped the towel around herself, pulling down another for her hair. There was a murmur from the nurse and the sound of the bassinet being wheeled out into the hallway. 

Molly dried herself off quickly and stepped out into the bathroom. She pulled fresh clothes from the bag and pulled them on. It felt strange to run her hands over her flat belly again. She had stretch marks now, all that was left of the nine months of slow growth inside her. She shook herself and finished dressing. Brushing out her hair and piling it on top of her head in a messy bun. 

She re-packed her bag and went back into the main room. She wasn’t sure how long Vincent and Mary would be gone, but she didn’t want to risk looking for them and missing their return. She sat down in the chair that Mary had been dozing in. Picking up the paperwork for Vince’s birth certificate. 

“Hooper, Vincent. Male. 9th of March 2012. Time? Have to ask Mary, I’ve no idea. Mother: Hooper, Molly. 20th October 1980. Father. Oh.” She sat staring at the form for several minutes. Until Mary arrived holding a squalling Vincent while the nurse pushed the bassinet back into the room and left. Molly stood quickly, spilling papers in her haste to retrieve Vincent from Mary. “Oh my poor little bee, what happened?” Molly took Vincent with her back to the chair, he settled somewhat just being in her arms. As soon as she sat down he started to root, turning his head towards her and pecking, his tiny head rocking back and forth. “Greedy bird, mama’s here.” Molly settled him into the nursing position Mary had shown her. 

Mary stooped down and picked up the paperwork off the floor. Glancing over the progress Molly had made. “You can leave that part blank if you want. You can tell Vincent about his father when he is older if you like, nothing needs to be done right now.”

“No, it isn’t that. I want to fill it in. I don’t think it will make any difference, no one will be looking for it, or us. And it doesn’t matter, he wasn’t a fake.” She looked at Mary defiantly, hoping that Mary would not argue, but terribly afraid that she would. “I just realized, I’ve known him for years. Thought of him as a friend for ages. But I have no idea when his birthday is. He just wasn’t like that, he discouraged any personal contact, and was absolutely not the type to give a gift to.” She remembered her one disastrous attempt to give Sherlock a Christmas gift.

Mary fished her phone out of her pocket. She tapped rapidly at the screen. “According to Google, he was born 6th of January 1981.” There was a brief flash of pain in Mary’s eyes. _So young._ “Do you want me to write it in?”

“Please.” Molly’s arms were tangled up with Vincent. 

Mary sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the little breakfast tray over. “I finished the exit paperwork while we were out. You can sign it on the way down. But I’ll have to go out and bring the car seat in. They check the straps before they will discharge Vince.”

Suddenly Molly was nervous about leaving the hospital. Vincent was so small and fragile, the hospital was quiet and solid, it felt safe. Even as she longed for her own bed, and her stomach rumbled demanding real food. “Everything is alright?”

Mary hopped down off the bed, stacking the papers and putting them back in the envelope. “Everything is fine.” She bent down and kissed Molly on the forehead. “God, I’ve wanted to do that for months. You are so beautiful, do you know it?”

“Birth isn’t sexy.” Molly flushed at the compliment.

“Neither is death, and here we are.” Mary kissed her again, this time on the lips before breaking away. “Shower, paperwork, home.”

“Home.” Molly sighed.

Mary dropped off the paperwork at the desk, Molly could sign it all before they left and went down to the van to grab the car seat.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Several days later, as it does take time for these things to work their way into the system. Mycroft was sitting in his usual chair in the Diogenes Club, reading through some files on the Korean situation. It seemed to need his attention again, he sighed. Honestly, some problems would just not stay fixed.

There was a discrete vibration in his pocket. He retrieved his phone after carefully closing the file and placing it on the small side table at his elbow. Thumbing the phone to life he opened the email.  
 _Keyword search result: Sherlock Holmes_  
Document type: Certificate of Live Birth  
Origin: Brighton.  
Secondary Keyword match: Molly Hooper. 

Mycroft stood suddenly, already firing a text message at Anthea. He shoved the blasted Korean file into his attache case and exited the sitting room at a brisk walk. His car was already waiting for him as he exited the Club. 

Once he was quit of the Club he dialled Anthea’s number. “How quickly can I get to Brighton?” It was only then that he realized that he had abandoned his umbrella, leaning against the back of his armchair in the Club. “Damn it all, send someone with clearance round the Club to fetch my umbrella.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the Holmes you are looking for. I'm sorry. All will become clear.


	11. High Tea with the British Government.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft plots.
> 
> The girls play, and plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is just a tiny bit of pre-slash in this chapter.

Mycroft does not shout, he orders calmly and his orders are carried out with smooth precision. However, and just this once he feels like shouting. “How was this missed?” He asks in his smooth quiet voice. “I want everything we have on Molly Hooper for the last year. Before I get back to the house.” He had let Dr. Hooper fall from his notice after she had delivered the report on Sherlock’s suicide. That had apparently been an oversight on his part.

The car pulled up outside an unassuming address and Mycroft did not wait for the driver to come round and open his door. He was out of the car and up the steps to the door before the driver was three quarters of the way around the car. Anthea pulled the door open and handed him a file. There was also a “go-bag” waiting a discreet distance from the door. Mycroft may despise leg work but he acknowledged that he would have to go to Brighton himself, this was not something that he could delegate.

The pages in the file were still warm from the printer when he flipped through them. “Is this all of it?” There were records of Dr. Hooper’s request for sabbatical and a copy of her lease agreement in Brighton, as well as some email correspondence between herself and a woman named Meena, mostly in regards to a cat named Toby, along with some idle gossip about her co-workers. Hooper made no mention of the pregnancy to Meena.

“The midwife practice only keeps the records necessary for NHS electronically. So we know that she was pregnant, but not any of the details.” Anthea cleared her throat. “There is no mention of Sherlock prior to his name appearing on the birth certificate.”

“Yes, kindly make sure that is scrubbed before it goes to permanent storage. Change the father’s name to Timothy Carlton. I can’t see why Dr. Hooper would be devious in this, there is nothing to gain from making this claim, but if the child is not Sherlock’s I want plausible deniability. Have someone get the originals of the paperwork and alter them as well.” It did seem rather counterproductive on Dr. Hooper’s part to claim that her child was Sherlock’s if it wasn’t the case, but Mycroft refused to let himself get too far ahead. “Get my family lawyer on the phone, and see if you can dredge up Sherlock’s DNA records, it was in the file.”

Anthea left, already texting on her phone. Mycroft went into his office, on the shelf there was a row of books, various first editions and other works. Tucked in at the end was an illustrated copy of Treasure Island, obviously much read, and ratty beside the other showier books. Mycroft took the book down carefully and turned to the frontispiece. He removed a photograph from the book, glanced at it briefly before returning it to the book.

The phone in the office rang, that would be his lawyer calling. He sat down at the desk, still holding the book, and picked up the receiver of the phone. “There has been a development. I’ll need some paperwork drawn up.”

The ride down in the car was as smooth as Mycroft could wish, given the distances involved . He could have pushed the bounds and had his car escorted, eschewing the normal travel time in favour of expediency. He was already far outside his schedule however, and he had no desire to draw attention to himself. Moriarty had vanished with Sherlock, which was vexing, and all of Mycroft’s resources had been unable to locate him as of yet, which was extremely vexing. Mycroft had taken the precaution of changing cars at the club on his way out of town. He did not want to make it easy for Moriarty to track him to Molly, in case the child was Sherlock’s after all.

Anthea sighed and shifted in the seat across from him. “The surveillance review is in, Molly Hooper moved to Brighton in September of last year. Her employers at Bart’s think that she is enjoying the sea air while trying to write a book on something ghastly. She made no mention whatsoever of pregnancy, and they assume that she will return to resume her teaching duties this September. While in Brighton she has attended yoga classes, gone to the library and consumed an admirable amount of Italian food. It would seem her only close acquaintance in Brighton is her midwife, Mary Morstan, so much so that Ms. Morstan has taken up residence in Dr. Hooper’s flat.”

Mycroft raised a brow, “Anything on Ms. Morstan?”

“Nothing yet, the techs are running her now.” Anthea shifted back against her seat sliding back into silent contemplation of her phone. 

Mycroft spared a glance out at the scenery. Maybe he should have requested the escort after all, this waiting was unacceptable.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Mary arrived home, opening the door quietly and depositing her keys and purse on the table on the landing, being careful not to let the keys clash against the glass surface of the table. She toed off her shoes and crept into the sitting room. 

Molly was curled up on the sofa, one earbud in her ear, watching something on her laptop. The bassinet containing Vincent was on the coffee table. Mary peered into the basket, Vincent was sleeping the sleep of a completely content baby, hands in little fists beside his head. “How long?” Mary breathed.

Molly glanced at the clock on her computer. “Just twenty minutes.” She shifted up to make room for Mary on the couch, leaning into the other woman and catching a kiss on her lips. She reached out to pause the video she was watching. Pulling the ear bud out of her ear and putting them on the keyboard.

“How was your day? Did you sleep?” She wrapped her arms around the other woman, holding her close and pressing their noses together. They hadn’t progressed much beyond snuggles and kissing, but Mary was more than fine with that. Molly was still adjusting to the whole idea, Mary would take whatever the other woman was willing to give, all too aware that it could end at any moment. They were sleeping together, but it was the sleep of new parents, almost entirely chaste, snippets of sleep whenever Vincent slept. 

“A bit, earlier. It is weird to sleep so much, I wanted to get some things done. Make dinner and all. But then Meena sent this.” She gestured at the laptop, the image frozen on a blurry cat pouncing on a toy mouse. “I got stuck in a bit of a feedback loop.”

Mary smiled “I can’t imagine why, cat videos are a cure for all that ails us. He’s a cutie too.”

Molly returned the smile, if somewhat sadly. “I just really miss him. I thought... when I went back to London. But I had to ask Meena to keep him”

Mary swallowed, trying to hide her disappointment, of course she knew that Molly had only moved to Brighton temporarily. She would go back to London in September to resume teaching, her life (plus one) would go back to normal.

“Hang on.” Mary’s brain caught up to the end of Molly’s sentence. “Why should Meena keep him? If you are back in London?”

Molly blushed. “This flat doesn’t allow pets, I’ve asked to renew my lease, in September. There is a teaching position coming up here. They called me back this afternoon, I won’t have tenure... but I like it here, it is quiet. I need quiet, now. And you... well I couldn’t...” Her blush was deepening with every word, eventually she stopped and looked down at her hands.

“Oh. oh. god. you are staying?” Mary brushed her hand over Molly’s hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear and pulling her chin up to make eye contact. “Um. You could... Well my place, it isn’t a flat, and if you wanted in September... or ... but if it is too soon...” She closed her eyes marshalling her thoughts and organizing them. “I mean. My cottage, is mine, and I allow pets. And children. And Morticians. I’ve got three bedrooms, we wouldn’t have to...” She stopped, feeling Molly pulling her closer she opened her eyes. She caught her breath at the look in Molly’s eyes. “Would you come and live with me, please.”

Molly leaned in, crushing their lips together, pressing against her. Mary shifted, pulling Molly close and up onto her lap. “Please love come and live with me.” She whispered between breaths. Molly’s hair was loose and it fell down to veil their faces. 

Molly pulled back from the kiss and shook out her hair. “You really want me to?”  
Mary ran her hands over Molly’s hips and up her lower back, rolling her hips up and pulling down on Molly to bring her back into kissing range. 

“God, yes, I do.” Mary’s hands strayed up under Molly’s t-shirt, dragging along the ridge of her spine. She pulled her hands forward, dragging her fingers slowly over Molly’s ribs to caress the underside of her breasts. Mary held her breath, this was new, and might not be allowed. She might be ruining everything. 

Molly sighed out a groan and pressed herself closer to Mary, rolling her hips against Mary’s lap. “Yes, yes I will.” She threaded her fingers in Mary’s hair and arched back as Mary’s fingers brushed over her nipples. “Please, can I?” Molly didn’t even really know what she was asking for, but she wanted everything. 

Mary wrapped her arms around Molly, pulling her close and pulling her shirt up over her head. She ran her hands down from Molly’s shoulders, dropping the shirt on the couch behind them. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Molly flushed and moved her hands to cover the stretch marks on her stomach. “I’m not.”

Mary growled, kissing away Molly’s fingers. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, I will tell you everyday until you believe me.” Mary pressed her back onto the sofa to get a better angle, kissing every inch of Molly’s skin.

Molly flushed but she arched up into the contact. Mary looked up at her, savouring the moment, Molly might not ever believe it, but that just meant another day that Mary could tell her.  
She started to work on the fly of Molly’s jeans as she pressed open mouth kisses around her belly button. 

Molly startled and Mary stilled her fingers. “I’m sorry. Too quick.”

“No, it isn’t that, I want to, god I want to. I just haven’t, god in so long. I don’t want to ever stop this.” She pulled Mary up towards her and kissed her deeply, working on the buttons of her blouse. She had the first two undone when the three quiet taps sounded at the door.

Molly squeaked and jumped back, pulling her shirt up from under her to cover her chest, as though the door could suddenly become translucent now that someone had knocked on it.

“Expecting someone?”

Molly shook her head no. 

Mary scrubbed her hands over her face. “It is probably just Mrs. Singh with another curry.” Molly’s cross the hall neighbour had been making dinner for them every other night since they had come home from the hospital. Neither of them could turn down her cooking, and Mary’s stomach rumbled at the thought. 

“I’ll get the door, she might want to bring it in though.” She tucked Molly’s hair back behind her ear as she rose from the couch. Crossing the room slowly to give Molly time to put her shirt back on. She checked her hair in the mirror by the door and straightening out some of the knots Molly had put in it. She put a smile on her mouth, Mrs. Singh was sweet, she just had terrible timing. She turned back to check that Molly was decent before pulling open the door. “You didn’t have to Mrs. Singh...” dying on her lips as she was confronted by a tall man in a bespoke suit instead of the tiny woman from across the hall.

“Ah, terribly sorry. You must be Ms. Morstan, hello. I am here to see Dr. Hooper, is she in?”

“May I say who is calling?” Mary regained her composure quickly.

“It is alright Mary, let him in.” Molly said, peaking around the corner of the hall. Mary turned back to look at Molly, surprised to see a look of terror on her face.

“Never fear Dr. Hooper. I come bearing gifts.” Indeed Mycroft did, he raised a very sleek blue gift bag with a ridiculously expensive bear poking his arms out of the top. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only Mycroft could cock-block two women.


	12. More Mycroft than we know what to do with.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mycroft has awkward conversations.

Mary’s hackles were raised by the look on Molly’s face. She turned back to the door. “I’m sorry, who the hell are you?”

The man’s eyes flicked back down to meet hers. “Ah. Yes. My name is Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock was my brother. I was informed this morning that I have a nephew. I’m told gifts are traditional. Although I admit my assistant picked it out.” He smiled a smile which did not reach his eye, just barely a lifting of the corners of his mouth. Mycroft made no move to try to push past Mary to enter the flat.

Molly sighed, pressing her forehead against the corner of the wall. “Let him in Mary, I’d rather not get abducted by Special Forces.”

Mycroft tilted his head, pursing his lips in an expression that was somewhere between that was a low blow, and fair enough. “That was only once, and Sherlock would have succeeded in killing himself with the dose.”

Molly huffed, turning away from the door and heading to the kitchen. “Shall I put the kettle on then? I’m afraid all I have in are bags.” It wasn’t true, and she suspected Mycroft would know, but she was damned if she was going to offer him any of her good loose leaf tea. She also thought she had some stale biscuits she could offer him. She knew that it was petty, and she really didn’t care. She needed to be angry, she needed him to think that the fear was only for Vincent. Sherlock had warned her about Mycroft, told her how to deal with him a little. She busied herself in the kitchen, finding the oldest, pinkest and most kitten covered mug she could to offer to Mycroft. When she opened the drawer to pull out spoons she palmed a knife into the sleeve of her jumper.

Behind her she could hear Mary move aside, grudgingly holding the door open for Mycroft to pass. He paused before entering and Molly had a vision of a vampire accepting an invitation to come into the house. There was a heavy sound beside the armchair in the sitting room, he had brought a brief case then. Molly fought to control her breathing. I can do this. I will be fine, Mary will help me. I will be fine.  

Mary joined her in the kitchen, running her hand over Molly’s spine. Molly leant back into the caress.

“Are we sure about this?” Mary asked in a whisper.

“Yes, it will be fine. Easier this way in the long run. He wouldn’t keep us forever if he had to send Special Forces, but...” Molly smiled but she could tell she had gone too far. Mary flinched back, pulling her hand away. Molly pressed close, following after her, and pushed a kiss against her lips. “I’m sorry, please, don’t go. I promise I will explain everything once he is gone. I’m sorry. I know you aren’t a spy.” Mary had been such a presence in Molly’s life lately that it was easy for her to forget that Mary didn’t know anything about Sherlock, she’d never been exposed to the whirlwind that was life in proximity to him. Mary is normal, and perfect, but normal people don’t get abducted by the British Government. “I’ll explain, and if it is too much I will understand. But please stay until he goes.”

Mary pressed her forehead against Molly’s. “I don’t think you could say anything more to scare me off. I may not be a spy, but he doesn’t look so tough himself.”

Molly pressed another kiss against Mary’s lips. “Just... Most of what he says will be true. But it will be fine. Just follow my lead okay?” Molly smiled, how many times in her life would she get to say something that cliche and have it actually apply? She gathered up the mugs and a package of biscuits. “Will you bring the kettle?”

She went back through into the sitting room. Mycroft was standing over the bassinet just looking down at Vincent. Molly chewed the inside of her lip before clearing her throat. “I’m afraid he isn’t very interesting. All he does is sleep and eat, and poop.”

Mycroft inhaled sharply, turning to look at Molly. “I was seven, nearly eight when Sherlock was born. I was severely disappointed at first that he wasn’t more active. Afterwards, I became nostalgic for the peace of the early days. If young Master Vincent here is anything like his father, I am afraid you are in for some difficult times.”

Molly felt her shoulders relax, which was silly, she did not require this man’s approval. “So... why are you here?”

Mycroft sighed, crossing to the armchair where he had deposited his brief case. “My attorneys will insist on DNA testing to confirm. But I am told that familial visits are traditional when a new member is born. I was old enough to remember what Sherlock looked like as a baby, but in this case I don’t need to.” He picked up the briefcase and set it down on the seat of the chair. Removing the copy of Treasure Island, he opened the front cover and tilted the book so that the photograph fell out onto his palm. He carefully placed the book back into the case before turning to Molly and offering the photograph.

Molly shifted awkwardly, setting down the mugs and packet on the coffee table. She carefully wiped her hands on her jumper before accepting the photo from Mycroft.

“He hated that picture of course. Never wanted to be seen as anything less than fully formed ‘consulting detective’. Well after he changed his mind about piracy at any rate.”

The photo was a formal portrait, Mycroft was indeed approximately eight years old, holding a baby that could have been Vincent. Baby Sherlock was wearing a christening gown and Molly could understand why he disliked it. There was a look of pride and fondness on Mycroft’s face in the portrait. Molly handed the picture back quickly, turning away from Mycroft to arrange the mugs in a straight line on the table. “Well, I guess it just goes to show that even Sherlock Holmes has an embarrassing baby photo.”

Mary came in carrying the kettle, and Molly moved out of her way to let her pour. “No Special Forces then?” Her tone was light, clearly trying to break the tension.

Mycroft busied himself returning the photograph to the book and then to the briefcase. “As I said, that was only once, and under the direst of circumstances. This hardly qualifies.”

Molly snorted and Mycroft turned back to her with a raised eyebrow. She pressed her lips together and looked at Mary before saying. “John told me about the first time you met. With the CCTV cameras.”

“Ah. well. Doctor Watson was a special case. Given the resources at my disposal, and knowing what I knew about him what would you have done?”

Molly sat down hard on the couch. “He was a special case? He’s not...”

Mycroft had the grace to flinch. “Oh, no. He’s fine, he has returned to Baker Street, in fact. In the company of Detective Inspector Lestrade, who has been re-instated incidentally. I’m afraid I don’t know much more than that, the last time we spoke he pointed his service revolver at me. John, not Lestrade.”

Molly considered the knife up her sleeve. “Can’t say that I blame him, I was there when he told Sherlock what you had done. Although I got the impression Sherlock already knew.”

Mary creased her brow. Holding the now empty kettle uncertainly, she shifted in place. Not wanting to leave the room but unsure if she belonged.

Mycroft glanced at her. “Thank you for the tea Miss Morstan, if I might trouble you for some sugar?”

“Yes of course.” Mary glanced over at Molly, giving her a small smile before returning to the kitchen.

“I have done many things in my life, Dr. Hooper, for my country. The decisions I have made have always been for the good of the nation. There is only one that I regret, although I am not proud of several of them.” He turned, dropping the briefcase back to the floor. He sat in the chair and leaned forward, pressing his fingers together and looking down at his hands. “I never dreamt that it would end this way. I thought I could control Moriarty. I shall have to live with the fact that I was wrong for the rest of my days.” He looked up at Molly. “And I am sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing too.”

Mycroft collapsed back into the chair. “Even if he could hear me, do you think he would forgive me? It would seem that Doctor Watson and yourself are disinclined to do so.” He waved his hand at her sleeve, clearly aware of the knife.

“So it would seem.” Molly reached forward and hooked her fingers into her favourite mug.

“Does Doctor Watson know about...” Mycroft waved his hand to indicate Vincent.

Molly paused with her mug in front of her face. “No. And you are not going to tell him.” She put more force into the words than was strictly necessary.

Mary returned and set the sugar bowl down on the table, along with an empty bowl. Picking up her own mug she removed the bag and set it in the empty bowl. She sat next to Molly on the sofa, and the other woman scooched unconsciously to make room for her.

“Surely John would want to know...”

“I said no, Mycroft. Sherlock sent me away, that night... after. He said the case had gone wrong, but that he and John would sort it. He said he would see me in the morning, that everything was fine. I left and John said that he would take care of Sherlock. But John left him alone. And in the morning...” Molly broke off, staring into her tea mug.

Mycroft made no move to pick up his mug. “Why did you do... Why didn’t you get someone else to...”

“How could I let some stranger... someone he didn’t know. No it had to be me. It was always supposed to be me. John left him alone.” There was fire in Molly’s eyes.

Mycroft cleared his throat. “Very well.” He extracted the tea bag from the remaining mug and gracefully deposited it in the bowl, before adding a very nearly obscene amount of sugar to his cup. He settled back into the chair and squared his shoulders. “Be that as it may, it appears that Sherlock, after the incident at the pool, made certain provisions for Doctor Watson in the event that he should outlive Sherlock. For some perverse reason, known only to my brother, he included a caveat that Doctor Watson continue to reside at 221B, for a period of three years.” He took another sip of his tea. “Sherlock’s estate is entirely in Doctor Watson’s control unless he quits 221B. Although I am certain that he would want to make adjustments, pending young Vincent’s paternity results of course.” He sighed as Molly gave him a look that would flay the skin from a lesser man.

Mycroft just tips his mug in acquiesce and takes another sip. “I am afraid that my attorneys were very firm in their insistence that Vincent be tested before they would allow me to make any arrangements on his behalf concerning my portion of the Holmes estate.”

Molly sputtered and set her mug down with a bang. Casting a quick glance at the bassinet to see if she had startled Vincent. She spoke only after he had shifted slightly and settled back into sleep. “I don’t need anything from you. I didn’t ask for you to come here, and I don’t need your charity.”

Mycroft graced her with his best ‘tolerating other people’ smile. “My dear Doctor Hooper, this is not charity. The Holmes family name is dead. Sherlock is gone, and I am disinclined to reproduce.” He shuddered rather dramatically. “I have changed the father’s name on your son’s birth certificate to something completely forgettable, and I would encourage you to allow Vincent to retain your surname. It is my intention to set up a blind trust for the child, such that I doubt even Sherlock could have traced the money back to the Holmes name. What I offer is Vincent’s due and his right, nothing more.” He drained his mug before setting it back on the table. “And I will provide it regardless of your willingness to accept it. As soon as the results are in you will find that all of your bills will cease to arrive, any previous debts that you may have will cease to exist. Vincent will receive acceptance letters to schools you have never even heard of, as well as ones you have.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Although I should think that the combination of your particular genetics and dispositions will mean that Vincent will not enjoy ‘normal’ schooling, and it will be a waste.”

Molly was trying to interupt, but Mycroft waved his hands. “Changing your name or address, opening new accounts and the like will not stop me. My brother was right, I am the British Government, and that boy is my family. I will do everything in my power to keep him safe. Which for the time being means keeping you safe as well.”

Molly squeaked. “For the time being?”

“When he reaches his majority, it will fall to him. And of course I am not invincible, nor omnipresent.” Mycroft smirked. “Should anything premature happen to me, the Holmes family lawyers will maintain the trust... but only the trust.”

Molly’s eyes narrowed. “So what do you want from me? Christmas dinners? School holidays?”

“Nothing so pedestrian. My brother was not the only one with enemies, I am sure there are those who would seek to use my nephew against me. No, I think it best if my interaction with the boy is limited.” So as to be non-existent he did not say. “Sherlock respected your, shall we say, skill set, or he would not have come to you for help.”

Molly covered her flinch by raising her mug to her lips. “He didn’t, not really. Just barely tolerated me for lab access.”

Mycroft gave her a look that bordered on piteous. “That obviously is not true. And false modesty doesn’t suit you. You are exceptionally clever, and he trusted you. Therefore, I may seek out your services from time to time. Should the need arise for discretion.”  
She choked. “You want me to work for you? And you will pay me an actual fortune? Whether I want it or not.”

“Precisely.” Mycroft bent forward, withdrawing a sterile swab kit from his briefcase. “First the formalities of course.”

“I suppose if I say no the black ops appear?”

Mycroft did not respond, he merely held out the kit. Not extending it so far that she could reach it from her position on the couch. She would have to get up and cross the room to take it from him.

Mary had been watching their verbal tennis match, trying to assimilate the information, she felt as though much of what was actually being discussed wasn’t actually present in their words. She stood and crossed the room to retrieve the kit from Mycroft. She looked askance at Molly, who nodded without breaking eye contact with Mycroft.

Mary cracked open the kit and removed the swab, then teased open Vincent’s mouth with her thumb, quickly popping the swab into his mouth and working it around against his cheek. She popped the swab into the tube and handed it back to Mycroft. “I think that’s all then?”

“Quite right.” Mycroft rose from the chair, straightening and smoothing his suit. “A pleasure to meet you Ms. Morstan.” He glanced down at Vincent once more, a small smile on his face. “If you should ever need anything, Black Ops extractions or what-not. Please don’t hesitate to call.” He removed a small white card from his inner pocket, handing it to Mary. “My assistant can authorize anything you request.”

Mary glanced at the card. “Who is Mark Gatiss?”

Mycroft smiled, very nearly approaching something genuine. “Code name, one simply cannot hand out cards with one’s own name when...” He gestures to himself. He picked up his briefcase from the floor and took his leave without further ado. Mary following him out to make sure the door was bolted behind him.

She came back into the sitting room, still clutching the business card. Molly had adjusted the bassinet on the table and was watching Vincent sleep.

“So do you want to tell me what just happened?”

Molly stood up and retrieved the shopping list pad from the side table. She wrote quickly on the pad. _Probably no video bugs, but the bear is probably a plant_. “That was Sherlock’s brother, he is a bit over protective. And the British Government. I’m not really sure what happened, but I think I was just adopted, at least until Vincent is older. Can I keep you?” Molly smiled, hopeful but wary.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing Mycroft is very difficult for me. But it needed to be done. Next comes Molly and Mary sorting themselves out.  
> I hope this makes sense, I just needed to finish it and publish it so i can get past it and back to hopefully happy baby story.


End file.
